In my thoughts and dreams
by tangledupinmist
Summary: Some encounters between Dr. Turner and Sister Bernadette which we did not get to see during season 2.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: I always wondered about the missing scenes in the emerging relationship between Sister Bernadette and Dr. Turner during season 2. In my opinion, there must have been quite a few more interactions than those we actually get to see between the two which explain how they eventually end up the way they do._

 _There is a a similar fic_ _by pellucid (_ Good Morrow to Our Waking Souls _, on AO3 - /works/10708944) which I only discovered after I drafted my own. So the ideas are mine - whereas, as always, the characters are not - but I definitely recommend reading hers as the better-written one since I am not a native speaker and will never reach the level some of you fantastic fic writers out there are working on._

 **In my thoughts and dreams**

 **Chapter 1**

Dr. Patrick Turner entered the dark and narrow flat of the Smalls, a young couple expecting their first baby. He smelled the faint smell of smoke, dirt and too many people living on too little space, a smell he was all too familiar after working in Poplar for more than ten years.

He heard the screams of a woman in labour – there had been an emergency call regarding Mrs. Small's delivery. Severe bleeding, probably placental abruption, the midwife in charge had let Mr. Small, the terrified father-to-be convey the surgery over the telephone.

Mr. Small now ushered the door to the bedroom where his wife had now been in labour for over 15 hours. Dr. Turner quickly made his way into the delivery room, relieved to find Sister Bernadette supervising the birth. Even though he held all Sisters and midwives of Nonnatus House in high regard, when it came to critical cases he preferred to work with Sister Bernadette. Her calm manner and excellent midwifery skills usually meant that they would manage even the direst situation.

Sister Bernadette sat at the side of the bed next to the crying mother, whispering words of comfort while constantly checking the thin but steady stream of blood dripping onto the sheet that was placed below the woman.

Dr. Turner nodded into the Sister's direction, shucked off his coat and rolled up his sleeves while giving the midwife a questioning look. She understood instantly and quickly explained the situation. The bleeding was not very severe, but steadily going on for about an hour now, giving her reason to believe that the placenta might have been ruptured or coming off.

Sister Bernadette turned to the labouring mother, squeezing her right hand. "Sally, doctor has arrived now. He will have a look at you and we will both make sure that you and baby will be safe." "Greetings, Mrs. Small", Dr. Turner addressed the woman in question. "There is no need to worry with Sister Bernadette at your side. I will quickly see if I can find out more about what is troubling us here and then I believe we will soon be able to greet your baby", he tried to encourage the mother.

Just after he had finished his examination and was about to address Sister Bernadette, the bleeding intensified and both doctor and midwife looked at each other worriedly. "It's the placenta, it must have come off now", Sister Bernadette said to the doctor. She went on, addressing Mrs. Small: "Sally, the placenta has come off which means that we now must deliver your baby as quickly as possible. I am going to apply pressure onto your abdomen. This may hurt and I am sorry, but we have no other choice. Doctor Turner will help your baby on his way with forceps."

While speaking, she had already changed her position and began to press her forearms onto Sally's abdomen. Meanwhile Dr. Turner had retrieved the forceps from his bag and positioned himself in order to pull the baby out of the birth canal. Sister Bernadette watched his movements carefully, adjusting hers to his so as to help him in the best way possible. "Oh, this hurts so much, please, I cannot … I cannot … anymore", Mrs. Small groaned. "Sally, you are doing wonderful", Sister Bernadette reassured her. "I know this is hurting beyond what we can imagine but we need to do this for your baby. And you are so brave."

"Very well, Sister," Dr. Turner then said, "Head is coming down fast now." Sister Bernadette watched his lined face, the creases on his forehead more prominent than usual due to him working concentrated. She liked working with Dr. Turner. Of course, working with him during a birth usually meant there were complications, but not only was he a skilled doctor, he was also a polite and kind man. Never let a loud word slip or appeared disrespectful to neither patients nor the nurses and Sisters. She remembered how harsh most other doctors she had encountered during her nurse's training or the periods she was seconded to the London treated the nurses they worked with.

"There he is", the doctor finally gasped. "Sister, would you …" but before he could finish the sentence, Sister Bernadette had already fetched a towel and taken the baby from him. The little one's face was slightly blue and he did not seem to breathe. Sister Bernadette gently rubbed the baby's back and blew into his face, murmuring words of encouragement to the little one.

"What is it? Where is my baby?" Sally cried fearfully. "You have a beautiful son Mrs. Small", Dr. Turner addressed her. "Because of the placental abruption, he may have suffered a shock, causing him to not breathe. We'll need to give him some support so that you can hold him soon", he explained.

The baby still did not want to cry, but seemingly had begun to breathe because the blue colour of his face very slowly vanished and changed into a faint pink. Sister Bernadette still rubbed his back and gently moved his tiny arms up and down several times, until the baby suddenly let out a hushed wailing, like a very tiny cat. "There you go", she smiled with relief, "I knew you could do it."

She passed the baby to Dr. Turner who understood to continue with the gentle movements while she attended to the completion of the third phase of the birth. "Sally, you were so brave. We will just make sure your baby is doing well, Dr. Turner will check him over and then you can hold him. Al right?"

Sally cried in fear and exhaustion, but visibly calmed once Sister Bernadette held her hand and stroked her face. "Doctor, placenta is out and intact, bleeding has considerably lessened", the midwife informed him. He nodded his understanding and focused on the little boy in his arms again.

After another ten minutes during which Dr. Turner had made sure the baby was all right for the moment, he finally passed him to his mother who now cried tears of joy. Dr. Turner and Sister Bernadette smiled at each other across the new mother, both expressing their relief over the situation they had mastered so well together.

"Doctor, why don't you tell the new father the good news while I finish in here with Sally", Sister Bernadette suddenly said. "Of course", he replied, gathering his bag and clothes before leaving the room to inform an anxious Mr. Small that he now was the father of a son. "A son, you sure doctor? Well, you should be", the new father chuckled excited. "When can I see them?" "Not just now, Sister Bernadette will inform you when mother and child are ready for a visitor. Would you want a cigarette while waiting?" Patrick had found out long ago that offering a father outside a delivery room a cigarette was usually the best he could do in this situation.

The men had just lit a third cigarette each when Sister Bernadette, face shining with a warm smile and carrying her bag, came out of the bedroom. "Your wife and son are now ready for you", she addressed the new father who instantly threw the half-smoked cigarette to the floor while jumping up and ran past Sister Bernadette.

"Well", she said, smiling at the doctor, "another successfully mastered crisis. Thank you, doctor, thank you for your help."

"Sister, I really should thank you. You knew exactly what you were doing. With you I know that I do not need many words", he said, while getting up from his chair and taking his coat and bag.

He noticed Sister Bernadette slightly blushing at his words, looking down at her shoes. "I mean it", he reassured her.

"Thank you, doctor", she said quietly, moving her head up and looking into his eyes. He looked back and felt a tingle in his stomach. How came he had never noticed how stunningly beautiful her eyes were?

She suddenly turned her head into the direction of the flat's entrance suggesting they should leave. "Of course, our job here is done", Dr. Turner said, biting his lips in a successful attempt to resist resting his hand on the small on her back while she passed him on their way out.

Outside in the narrow cobbled street, they stood opposite of each other, while she was holding her bicycle and he stood in front of his car. There was an awkward silence between them until he said "You must be very tired after so many hours. Can I offer you a lift?" He instantly thought what a stupid suggestion this was – how was her bicycle to get back to Nonnatus House then? But he suddenly felt excited at the thought of spending some more time in her company.

"Thank you, doctor, your offer is very kind. But I would rather take my bike. I can take my time now and I would like to enjoy some of the afternoon sun. Spring is finally coming, did you notice?"

No, he had not yet noticed. But she was right. He took a few seconds to close his eyes and breathe in the warming air. When had he last noticed the first signs of spring? When had he last noticed anything related to changing seasons other than exchanging his warm winter coat for the thinner one he wore in early spring and autumn?

He could not remember, probably many, many years back. He opened his eyes again and looked at Sister Bernadette. He noticed how the golden afternoon sunlight reflected in her glasses and made the porcelain skin of her face glow. Like an angel, he thought.

"Umm, … in fact, I haven't. But now that you speak about it…yes, I smell there is something in the air" he replied, thinking how lame this must sound to her. "Well then, have a safe ride home and enjoy the sun." "Please give my regards to Timothy", Sister Bernadette said while climbing her bike and nodding her goodbye.

"I will, thank you, Sister", Dr. Turner said, watching her disappear around the corner into the direction of Nonnatus House.

What a remarkable woman, he thought while lighting himself a cigarette. He wondered why he would think about her in the first place, after all, she was a nun. He had never thought about the nuns as women, probably because their habits shielded them from any worldly actions, he considered.

But ever since that night some weeks ago when she had told him that she wished faith would make a difference in the event of the death of a baby, he had caught himself secretly watching her, or thinking about her.

Perhaps it was her age, he thought, which made her stand out from the other Sisters. He could not remember when exactly she had joined the other Sisters. When he had first come to Poplar in 1946, the youngest Sisters were about his age, Sister Julienne probably closest to himself. Sister Bernadette must have joined the Sisters about one or two years later. He remembered that Timothy had already been born and that he and his wife had wondered why a young and beautiful girl like her would join a religious order.

Dr. Turner shook his head and threw his cigarette bud to the floor. He should not be thinking about her in such a way, this was disrespectful. She was a nun and a colleague whom he deeply respected. But he could not but smile at the thought of her clear blue eyes and the golden glow of her face in the afternoon sun. He closed his eyes and took in some more deep breaths of the clearly warming air. She was right, he thought, it smelled of spring and this suddenly gave him a strong feeling of energy. He opened his eyes again and went to his car. He still had to make quite a few calls until the end of his workday.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Sister Bernadette sat down at the kitchen table of Nonnatus House. She had just finished cleaning her instruments after attending the second delivery for this day. Both had passed quickly and without any complications, and she was happy thinking about the two little girls who were now among Poplar's newest inhabitants.

Now, she wanted to have a quick break with some tea and cake before she had to go on her evening rounds. The moment she sat down, a cup with steaming hot tea in front of her, her thoughts wandered to an early morning three days ago as they had done too frequently over the past days. She could not suppress a faint smile thinking how after a dramatic birth at the Carter's she had been sharing a cigarette with Dr. Turner outside, both still full of adrenaline after a long night while the dawn slowly rose above Poplar.

Sister Bernadette was sure that the doctor had not expected her to take the cigarette he had offered her, but right in this moment, it hat felt absolutely right. She did not know why she had been that bold, but for the duration two drags on a cigarette and the sharing of a childhood memory long since forgotten, she had felt not like a nun but like any woman who might be out in the streets that particular morning, engaging in a chat and a smoke with an appreciated colleague.

Sister Bernadette sighed. Since that day, she kept thinking about Dr. Turner's warm brown eyes and his crooked smile far too often. She kept replaying the short moment of sharing a cigarette with him over and over. Not only during her days – last night, he had even appeared in her dream. They had shared a cigarette, too, but when he took it from her, he let it fall to the ground and lifted his hand to her cheek. She had then woken up, shocked at such a dream. She should try and pray more, she thought, in order to get rid of his image in her mind.

Sister Bernadette was torn out of her thoughts when she heard someone clearing his throat. She turned around and saw Dr. Turner standing in the doorframe. " ", she gasped, her face blushing. How could it be that he was standing there right now, she thought, just when she agonized over her inappropriate dream about him? "How can I help you?"

"I, umm, I had an appointment with Sister Julienne. But she does not seem to be in. Nurse Franklin let me in on her way out but apparently was not aware that Sister Julienne is not here."

"Oh, I am very sorry, doctor", Sister Bernadette said. "Sister Julienne must still be attending Molly Sherman's birth. First time, anxious mother. When she left this morning, she told me that she thought it was a false alarm. This is why she probably did not tell anyone else and I forgot to update the board. I am truly sorry. Had I been aware you had an appointment, I would have informed your surgery."

"Oh well, never mind. That's the perils of our profession, I suppose" he said, smiling the crooked smile Sister Bernadette kept thinking about over and over for the past days. "Can I offer you some tea?" Sister Bernadette quickly asked, fearing another blush might give her thoughts away. "I just sat down for a quick break, please feel free to join me."

Dr. Turner happily accepted her invitation. Since they had shared a cigarette a few days ago, he was eager to learn more about her as a person. "Yes, this comes at the right time. I could use some tea", he sighed.

"Busy day?" Sister Bernadette asked. "As busy as any other", Dr. Turner responded, "but I only had perhaps two hours of sleep last night. I could do with a short break." "Hmm", Sister Bernadette responded while placing a cup and plate in front of the doctor and served him some tea and cake.

"How are the Carters doing? I assume you have been carrying out most of the regular check-ups?" he asked, looking for an appropriated topic to talk about.

"They are doing fine. Mave is still quite weak but her sister is of great help and the babies are doing fine", Sister Bernadette replied.

"Now that was one delivery, wasn't it?" Dr. Turner asked after a moment of silence.

"Yes, indeed", Sister Bernadette smiled. "The first time someone attacked me during a birth, actually", she added. "But now that everyone is doing so well, all is forgotten."

"I still think I should have slapped that woman, had it not been for her sister's life in that moment", Dr. Turner replied angrily.

Sister Bernadette answered with a calm smile, once more causing him to admire her serenity and ever professional attitude. "You would not have done that. You're too much of a gentleman", she chuckled. He suddenly felt a wave of warmth well up in his stomach.

After another long pause during which neither of them knew what to say, Sister Bernadette asked: "How is Timothy doing?"

"He is doing fine", Dr. Turner replied, "apart from the fact that we get way to little time to spend together. I am afraid he will hold this against me in the future. In fact, he already does, I suppose." He sighed and Sister Bernadette felt the urge of taking his hand into his after noticing how her question had caused a worried expression appear on his face.

"If you remember, I told you some time ago that I lost my mother when I was about Timothy's age. My father, too, was a very busy man and even though I missed him terribly at the time, I now understand how much he struggled to cope with his grief and to get out lives going. Timothy will understand, too. He is a mature and intelligent boy." "Well, if you say so", Dr. Turner responded, not entirely convinced.

Another moment of awkward silence passed during which both sipped their tea and got lost in their own thoughts. Dr. Turner had the most devious thought he could think of, when he thought what a wonderful mother Sister Bernadette would be. He imagined her holding a little girl having her face and her beautiful blue eyes; the mere thought of it sending strange sensations through his body.

Sister Bernadette on her part thought about how the doctor had changed since his wife had died. He looked much older and always so very tired, causing her to wonder how she best might help him. She had to suppress a sudden desire to take his hand placed next to his plate into hers and stroke it to comfort him.

Both of them were pulled out of their thoughts by the voice of Sister Julienne. "Dr. Turner, I am very sorry that I am late. I hope I did not delay you too much. But I see you are in good hands with Sister Bernadette."

Dr. Turner almost jumped up from his chair, feeling himself caught having such inappropriate thoughts. "Sister, thank you. I have had good company indeed. And given that it is only half an hour after our agreed time, I think I can manage." "Should we have our talk then?", Sister Julienne asked. "Yes, Sister, very well then", he replied.

Sister Bernadette looked after the two and took a deep breath. This needs to stop, she silently said to herself. Stop thinking of Dr. Turner. She was not entirely convinced that she would succeed at that, though.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

"We'll have fixed you up in a jiffy", Sister Bernadette said to Timothy Turner and ushered him to one of the chairs in the parish hall where the weekly antenatal clinic took place. Some minutes ago, the angry voice of Dr. Turner had caught her attention and she watched him fret over his son who had come to the antenatal clinic with an injured arm.

She had felt sorry for the boy when and hurried to help. After talking to the doctor, she realized that she would probably help the father as much as she helped his son by tending to Timothy's wound. She had always liked Timothy, an intelligent and curious boy. Ever since his mother had died, she sensed that she understood how he felt- after all, she had once been through a similar experience and still felt sad about the loss of her mother every now and then.

"There now", she said after she had cleaned and bandaged wound, "All done. Now let's find you some tea and biscuits. And if you like, we can also find you a quiet space for you to do your homework. Clinic will be finished in about one hour. I could sit with you then for a moment, in case you have any questions." "Thank you, Sister Bernadette", Timothy said shyly. He liked the young nun and still felt relieved that she had come to his support when his dad had received him so angrily just a moment ago.

Rushing from one cubicle to another in between his consultations, Dr. Turner watched Sister Bernadette tending to his son and could not help to smile at how well the both of them got along. He was thankful that she had offered her support, which relieved his conscience – at least a little. He should not have overreacted and now felt guilty towards his son. He was always so busy during clinic that he could not understand why his son's arm could not have been seen at his school. But he should not have directed his anger at the boy who had to suffer enough already.

After having seen his last patient for the day, he gladly accepted a cup of tea from Nurse Lee and then approached Timothy, who sat at a small table in one of the back corners of the parish hall. "Tim, I am sorry for earlier. I should not have snapped at you", Dr. Turner apologized and put his left hand on his son's right shoulder. "How is your arm?"

"It's alright", the boy replied. "I see you are doing homework", his father remarked. "Do you need any help?"

"No, Sister Bernadette said she would help me if I had any questions. But actually, I don't have any."

Dr. Turner felt slightly awkward after his son declined his offer of helping him. Yet he hesitated to leave his son and ran his hand through his hair while gathering his thoughts about what to say next when he noticed a movement in the corner of his eye. He turned to see Sister Bernadette approaching father and son, directing her warm and encouraging smile at them.

"Timothy, how is your homework going on?" she asked.

"Almost done", the boy exclaimed. "And I don't even have any questions. Well, apart from my essay, but this is only due next week. I can do it over the weekend."

"Now, if you need any help with it, I've always liked writing essays when I was your age. I am actually free on Friday afternoon, feel free to visit me at Nonnatus House", Sister Bernadette said. "I am sure there will be plenty of cake to keep us going. That is if you like to? And if your father agrees?" she carefully glanced at Dr. Turner.

"Yes, I would like that. Dad, may I visit Sister Bernadette?" Timothy shouted excitedly. His father was more careful in his reply. "Thank you, Sister", Dr. Turner said, "This is too kind of you. But you don't have to mind Timothy on your day off."

"Oh, believe me I don't mind, doctor. I am sure everyone at Nonnatus House will be delighted to have Timothy over. And I remember how much easier it can be to write an essay if someone helps out with some occasional question."

"Please, Dad", Timothy pleaded. "I will behave myself all the time, I promise."

"All right then", Dr. Turner said, a smile crossing his face. "If you don't mind, I will pick him up as soon as I have finished my afternoon rounds."

Sister Bernadette smiled again, even wider this time. "Wonderful. Now I have to say good bye, Nurse Miller was called out and I offered to clean the remaining equipment for her in the kitchen. So I will see you on Friday then, Timothy."

Dr. Turner watched her walk towards the kitchen, wondering how she would look like if her slim figure was not dressed in a habit but in a nurse's uniform or even a fashionable dress or skirt and blouse the kind the young nurses wore outside duty. His thoughts were interrupted by an impatient Timothy, asking: "Dad, are you finished now? Can we go?" "Um, yes, son. Pack up your things and I will get my coat and bag."

He went to the kitchen where Sister Bernadette hat just begun to wash the clinic equipment. While hanging his clinical coat and gathering his things, he quietly said: "Thank you again, Sister. I think you worked wonders with Timothy today." "Oh, well, this was nothing. It's just that I am familiar with situations of this kind", she said, giving him an understanding look.

The doctor watched her small hands skilfully cleaning the glass equipment, ready to go but unable to move, until he heard his son's voice from across the hatch: "Dad, can we go now? I am getting hungry."

"Well then, son, we should remedy that", he shouted laughing. He turned back towards Sister Bernadette, gently saying: "Good bye, Sister". "Good bye, Doctor", Sister Bernadette replied, applying all her self-control to not turn her eyes to look after the doctor leaving the kitchen.

She quickly finished cleaning the equipment and got ready to leave. The other nurses and Sisters had already left and Sister Bernadette was the last person in the now empty parish hall which bore no traces of the busy clinic that had been held here until just an hour ago. She breathed deeply in and out for several times to calm herself.

She needed to stop thinking about Dr. Turner. When he had been angry with his son this afternoon she could not help but see behind his anger. He was a weary and wounded man, always torn between his demands at providing the best of care to his patients as well as to be a good father to his son. Whenever she had seen him recently she felt the urge to reach out to him, to tell him that everything would eventually be all right. This afternoon when he had been so cross with Timothy, she had gladly taken the opportunity to channel her feelings for the doctor towards the sad boy, offering him the care of which she knew his father needed even more.

Sister Bernadette sighed in despair and looked at the clock above the sink. There were another forty-five minutes until dinner. She would go to the chapel and pray. She needed to stop thinking of Dr. Turner.

Some hours later, Patrick Turner sank into his armchair, breathing out the day's worries. He lit himself a cigarette and took to reading the evening paper. After about ten minutes, he noticed that he was only staring on the front page, not able to take in any of the words printed on it. Instead, he thought about her. Her intense blue eyes and her warm smile. Her gentle voice and her infinite patience. She had been his rescue this afternoon, when he had failed his son. Ever since they had left the parish hall to go home for dinner, Timothy had talked about how much he liked her and how much he was looking forward to meeting her this coming Friday.

He felt the tingling sensation in his stomach again when he pictured her beautiful face once more when a thought flashed through his mind. This was what falling in love felt. Thinking about a person all the time, picturing her in all kinds of situations, dreaming about her, always wishing to be close to her.

But he could not fall in love with a nun. It had been quite a while since he had last fallen in love. About twelve years, when he first met Marianne. After her death he had not expected this to ever happen again. Even though she had told him that she wanted him to remarry, he never thought he might find another woman he could love.

He stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray, let the paper slide onto the floor and buried his face into his hands. Why? Why a nun? And now…. Perhaps it was only a crush, one that would go away. He was not so sure, but desperately tried to convince himself that it was and that it would pass.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

"Yes, Almond sponge is great, but I think anything with fruit in it is even better", Dr. Turner heard his son's voice coming from the kitchen of Nonnatus House. He followed the voice and saw his son standing next to the housekeeper Mrs. B. who was stirring a pot on the oven and apparently discussing cakes with Timothy.

"Now young man, I see you have made yourself familiar with the facilities over here?" he said teasingly and added: "I hope you did behave yourself."

"Dad, look, Mrs. B. is showing me how to make a stew. And she asked me about my favourite cakes so she can bake them." Mrs. B. laughed and turned, facing Dr. Turner: "You have a very talented son, doctor. He tells me that you are not too fond of the kitchen but I believe, we could train your son to do all that", she chuckled.

"Is that so?" Dr. Turner asked, only half-mockingly. "Now Tim, get your things so we can go home. I am done for today, and not on call for the night."

"Dad, can we stay for dinner please?" Timothy asked.

"Tim, I don't think so. You have stretched the Sisters' hospitality quite enough for today, I think", his father said.

Sister Bernadette, who had heard Dr. Turner's voice while setting the dining table, entered the kitchen. "Actually, I invited Timothy to stay for dinner", she said. "I hope you forgive me. I was not sure when you would return and of course you, too, are very welcome to join us." She shyly asked: "That is, if you do not have any other plans?"

"Well, umm, no, but we do not want to intrude…" his voice broke off. "Oh, please, you two are almost family", Sister Bernadette said. "Well then, thank you very much", Dr. Turner replied.

He took off his coat and went outside to hang it on the coat rack. Sister Bernadette followed him, breathing in as if she wanted to say something but she did not. Dr. Turner looked at her with a questioning look. Suddenly both found themselves opposite each other in the hallway, looking into each other's eyes, neither able to break the gaze.

Dr. Turner slowly opened his mouth, but found he was unable to utter any word that might make sense. He felt the urge of reaching out to the small woman right in front of him, but an inner voice stopped him, reminding him that she was a nun. He desperately tried to think of anything else to do but felt paralyzed. So did Sister Bernadette who did not even know why she had been following him in the first place.

"Dr. Turner, are you joining us for dinner?" a bright voice ended this moment of awkwardness, and both Sister Bernadette and Dr. Turner looked into the smiling face of Sister Julienne, approaching them from the direction of her office. Both hoped she would not notice the look of embarrassment each of them displayed. "Yes, I am. We both are, Tim and I. Sister Bernadette kindly invited us."

Sister Julienne ushered him into the dining room where Mrs. B., assisted by Timothy, had begun to place the dishes containing her delicious food. "It was delightful to have Timothy with us this afternoon, doctor", Sister Julienne said. "I must say, you have a very bright boy." "Well, thank you. Too bright and cheeky sometimes, I shall add" Dr. Turner grinned and ruffled his son's hair, after said son had placed a plate with bread on the table.

Father and son enjoyed the meal. Even though their housekeeper was an excellent cook, Mrs. B. was yet playing in another league. And even more than the food, they enjoyed the large dinner table and the cheerful company of the Sisters and the young nurses. After all, it was rather silent at their house most evenings.

Dr. Turner noticed that Sister Bernadette hardly touched her meal. He wondered whether she was feeling unwell. She was by far the quietest person of them all, even the usually shy Jane would share an occasional joke with Timothy or comment on something one of the nurses said. He sometimes felt Sister Bernadette's gaze lingering on him, but each time he glanced back at her, she would quickly turn away.

Perhaps not used to entertaining a lively boy like Timothy, she was tired from answering all his questions, he thought. Or was it something else, he wondered. Perhaps she had noticed that he kept watching her whenever they were in the same room together and felt embarrassed by his behaviour. Earlier, at the coat rack, he must have embarrassed her with his stare, he assumed. He would not be able to ask her, he thought. But he needed to get himself under control again.

After dinner, the nurses cleared the table while the Sisters were heading towards the chapel. After expressing his gratitude over the dinner invitation, Dr. Turner said "Tim, get your things, we should go now."

He went to get his coat and noticed that Sister Bernadette had stayed behind the other Sisters. "Thank you again, Sister, for helping Timothy with his homework. He told me you did a wonderful job."

"Oh this was nothing really. I am glad I could help. He can come over any time, it is such a pleasure having him", she smiled at him. Again, he felt the urge of drawing her into his arms and even though he did not move, she stepped back as if she had been able to read his thoughts.

"If you'll excuse me", she said quickly, turning around and following her Sisters into the chapel.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

The following Saturday was the first Saturday in many weeks during which Dr. Turner was not on call. He had made Timothy decide how they would spend their day. The boy had wanted to go to a café for breakfast, which his father had happily agreed to. After tidying up their respective rooms at home – Dr. Turner found it was about time again – they decided they would go and see a cricket match.

Dr. Turner had not been to a match for a very long time. He usually enjoyed it very much, once having been an avid player himself. This time, however, he found it hard to focus on the game. Instead, his thoughts kept wandering to Sister Bernadette. Why had she been so quiet and reserved last night? Hed he been intimidating her with his thoughts and possibly inappropriate looks and actions, he wondered again.

Timothy had been talking about nothing else but her and everyone else at Nonnatus House for all of last evening and also during their breakfast this morning. He seemed to adore Sister Bernadette, it seemed. He had even drawn a picture of him and her, and asked his father to give it to her whenever he would see her next.

Dr. Turner sighed. She was a nun and he should not think about her in any but a professional way. But he did not. He could not go back to where he stood once. He even had dreamt about her last night. They had stood opposite each other, like they had in front of the coat rack at Nonnatus House last night. He had reached out to her, and touched her soft cheeks, causing her to smile her beautiful, radiant smile. He had been very close to her face, seeing the very few tender lines that formed in the corners of her eyes whenever she was smiling.

She had worn her habit, but not her whimple. He could not remember which colour her hair had – but he remembered the sensation and the sweet smell of it when she had drawn him into her arms and he had buried his face in her soft hair. Just when he was about to kiss the crown of her head, he had woken up, sweating, shaking with guilt. How could he dream in this way about a colleague he had the highest respect for. A nun?

"Dad, what is it? You are missing the game!" He suddenly heard his son's complaining voice. "Umm, sorry, Tim, I was distracted for a moment. What did I miss?" Timothy eagerly explained the past moves of the game, but Dr. Turner still could hardly concentrate and his thoughts kept wandering to Sister Bernadette.

Meanwhile, this same Saturday afternoon, Sister Bernadette returned to Nonnatus House, tired after having been called out at 4 am to attend a breech birth. Mother and son were fine, but having spent all day in a dark and damp delivery room after not having slept well got to her. On her way to the clinical room, she went to hang her coat on the coat rack, where she remembered the awkward moment between her and the doctor at exactly this spot last night.

She sighed and remembered why she had hardly been able to sleep last night. Whenever she closed her eyes, his kind brown eyes appeared in front of her. He looked very tired, she had noticed and she had to fight thinking about how she would like to take his lined face into both of her hands and ease his sorrows with a kiss – a thought immediately followed by burning guilt. She was not supposed to have thoughts like these, ever. But she found them increasingly hard to fight. Was this a test, a test of her faith? Of her calling? How could she rid herself of these thoughts? Did her Sisters ever have thoughts of this kind? To whom could she ever confide in?

She spent more and more of her free time in prayer, trying to find the peace and silent calm that had been the comfort of her life before. Before these thoughts. Before her dreams. When she finally had fallen asleep last night, he had been following her into her dreams. He had stood in front of her, his face tired, his look lost, asking for her comfort. And she had reached out to him and they had consoled each other, embracing ever so tightly.

Sister Bernadette shivered remembering her dream. She had been woken from it, shocked at having these unchaste thoughts even in her dreams. She had spent the rest of the night in prayer and was glad when, at 4 am, Mrs. Delaney's husband had called and she could occupy herself with what she was best in: delivering a child into this world.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

Dr. Turner watched the ambulance leave the narrow street and made his way back to the Henderson's flat. He had been called to an emergency – Mrs. Henderson was in labour but it was her husband who needed help. He had suddenly collapsed with pain in his stomach and Sister Bernadette, the attending midwife, had sent a neighbour to call for the doctor to attend to the poor man.

Dr. Turner diagnosed Mr. Harris with appendicitis and sent him to the London for surgery. When the doctor returned to the flat to collect his things, he heard a new-born's cries and a smile formed on his face. All seemed to have gone well.

He wondered how he might justify staying on a bit longer in order to wait for Sister Bernadette because he suddenly felt a strong urge to see her face and talk to her - even a few words, just to see her beautiful face for one minute before he had to go back to the many tasks waiting for him.

As if she had been able to read his mind, Mrs. Harris, the supportive neighbour who had stayed in order to help the new mother in absence of her ill husband, offered him a cup of tea. "Here, doctor, have a cup before you leave. What can I tell Mary about her poor lad?"

Dr. Turner gladly accepted the cup and said: "He has to undergo an operation at the London and will have to stay there for about a week. Does Mrs. Henderson have any relatives nearby who could come help her during the next days?" The elderly lady nodded. "She has a sister living down the road. I'll send for her when my Tina comes back from school. And we're on good terms here in the neighbourhood, we'll join forces. Could happen to any of us."

Dr. Turner nodded, once more glad to see how the women in this community never tired of organizing support where it was needed. And with the Sisters and nurses doing their regular check-ups, any difficulty Mrs. Henderson might experience during the following days and weeks would not go unnoticed.

Mrs. Harris placed a small cup with milk and a sugar pot on the kitchen table, as well as a second cup. "I'll go see how I can help in there and stay with Mary. If you will, would you pour the Sister a cup once she is done? I am sure she'll appreciate it." Dr. Turner nodded and sat down at the table. He held on to his cup, listening to the muffled sounds coming from the delivery room, anxious for Sister Bernadette to come out soon. After about ten minutes, his tea had gone cold, but he did not want to empty the cup before having met Sister Bernadette. Just when he began wondering how long it might be considered appropriate to stay on for him, she entered the kitchen, carrying her coat and bag.

She looked intensely appealing to him, cheeks flushed from excitement and a tiny streak of hair curling out of her whimple just by her ear. Dr. Turner wondered just how soft her hair might feel between his fingers and briefly thought about reaching out and tucking it back – but he then bit his lips, reprimanding himself for thinking about her in such an indecent manner.

Seeing the doctor, Sister Bernadette's mine lightened up. "Dr. Turner, you're still here", she exclaimed in surprise. "How is Mr. Henderson?"

"Appendicitis, as you suspected. I just saw him off to the London. I am sure he will be all right within a few days, though."

"Poor man – and poor Mary. She kept asking about her husband the whole time. She seems to be quite lucky with her neighbours, though."

"Yes, this is what I thought. Will you sit and have a cup of tea? Mrs. Harris prepared a fresh pot and ordered me to pour you one when you came out."

Sister Bernadette gladly sat down – despite her intention to stay out of the doctor's way. But right now, she was full of adrenaline, glad to have attended another successful delivery. Moreover, after eight hours of intense labour, including Mr. Henderson's medical emergency, she felt she could very well use a cup of well-sugared tea.

"Now, this was another first time", she said, stirring sugar into her cup. "I have experienced quite a few fathers passing out during their wives' labour, but never one that had to be taken to hospital during a birth."

Dr. Turner smiled. "I remember how during my first or second year in Poplar, a young father got into a fist fight during a birth. Greeted his boy with a black eye and a broken collar bone."

"No, really? What a start in life…" Sister Bernadette chuckled.

"How…. " she slowly began after a pause. "How is it for a father to wait outside the delivery room? I mean, I focus on the mothers and I usually do not give much attention to the fathers. You know their perspective. You have a son yourself…", she paused again, "If you do not mind me asking?"

"No, not at all. Well, most fathers are anxious, nervous and afraid, I would say. When I am out with them, I often smoke a cigarette with them to try to calm them down. Time outside here can drag on very long. When Timothy was born, I had to wait outside the delivery room. These were the longest nine hours of my life. At least I knew what was going on inside. I think what is difficult for most fathers is that they only hear those awful cries but do not know what is actually happening in there."

"I see…" she muttered, drawing her breath as if to say more but didn't. Dr. Turner looked at her questioningly, but she looked down into her cup and began to stir it again.

Several minutes passed in silence during which both of them slowly sipped their tea and intensely gazed at their hands, the kitchen table and the neatly painted wall of the Henderson's kitchen until both at the same time suddenly said "I should go now."

Both then looked into each other's eyes and laughed embarrassed. They then stood up simultaneously and Sister Bernadette gathered their empty cups and placed them into the sink. Dr. Turner marvelled at her being so attentive – he would never have thought about clearing the table, although it was such a simple and polite gesture.

Both quickly gathered their belongings and the doctor ushered Sister Bernadette outside, once more suppressing the impulse of placing his hand on the small of her back when she passed him on her way to the door.

Outside, she fetched her bicycle, smiled a faint smile at Dr. Turner and went on her way. He watched as she rode around the next corner, before walking in the opposite direction, towards his parked car.

After her return to Nonnatus House, Sister Bernadette quickly but carefully cleaned her instruments. She then decided to skip lunch in favour of spending her break in prayer. She felt a nagging guilt at having enjoyed her short moment with Dr. Turner earlier this day so much, despite her resolution to try to avoid him if possible. Not that she succeeded at this every day.

Only two days ago, they had discussed clinical equipment in the parish hall kitchen when they suddenly looked at each other with an intensity she had never experienced in her life. It hat felt like an electric shock running through her body. Her breathing had stopped and her heart began to rush. And she was certain he had felt exactly the same. Then Timothy Turner came running, calling his father to an emergency and their moment ended abruptly.

Sister Bernadette could not stop thinking about what might have happened, had the boy not come to look for his father. What might have happened? Would they have touched? Kissed? She did not want to think about this, but her thoughts kept returning to this moment and its intensity, each time experiencing anew the heat running through her body.

She had then firmly decided she should avoid the doctor. But then, she had already broken her own resolution this morning when sitting down with him for a cup of tea. Even though they had only spent perhaps ten minutes together in the Henderson's kitchen, she knew the admiring look which had appeared on his face once she entered the kitchen would keep to appear in front of her eyes the rest of the day.

Sister Bernadette stowed the cleaned instruments away in her bag and went to the chapel. There, she knelt down on the cool stone floor, took a deep breath and began to pray, trying to rid herself from all those improper thoughts that sent so many unknown sensations through her body while causing her so much pain at the same time.

Meanwhile Dr. Turner had returned to his surgery where his secretary had left a note from Sister Julienne asking for the list of clinical equipment he had discussed with Sister Bernadette to be sent over to her. He sighed. He had completely forgotten about completing the list after having been called away by his son.

He lit himself a cigarette and sat down at his desk. He might as well write down the list now and deliver it to Sister Julienne later during his rounds. He gathered pen and paper and tried to recall his talk to Sister Bernadette, but all that came to his mind was the sensation he had felt upon losing himself in those blue eyes just before Timothy had run into the room. He was sure she must have felt it, too. How could she not? She would not have looked at him this way, he was certain. But she was a nun. He sighed and leaned back in his chair, taking a deep drag of his Henley.

"Stop it, for god's sake, just stop it!", he said to himself. Whereas some months ago he had wondered whether he felt a momentary crush on the woman whose professional skill he admired most of all Nonnatus midwives, and who happened to be a nun, he had come to realize during the past weeks that what he felt for Sister Bernadette was a lot more than that. It was a deep and all-consuming love, as far away from a crush as it could be.

After Marianne's death he had been convinced he could never love another woman this way. And he had been lucky once, having loved, having had a happy marriage and a wonderful boy - how could he ever hope to find love a second time when many people did not even find it once in life?

But he had found it, a love, he felt, even deeper and more mature than what he experienced before. Only this time, he felt the pain of love rather than its joys. How could he ever tell her, he wondered. There would never be an opportunity. She was a nun and even thinking of her in this way made him cringe at himself thinking such indecent thoughts. The esteem and respect he held towards her and the other Sisters was ever too great.

He wondered how she felt. Whether she had thoughts and dreams similar to his. Nuns weren't allowed these, he knew. But she was a woman, too. A young and very attractive one, for that matter.

He thought of her smile this morning at the Henderson's. He was sure that her face hat lit once she had come into the kitchen and noticed him sitting there. And that brief moment at the Parish Hall kitchen two days ago – why would she have looked at him in this way if…. But perhaps he only imagined it, perhaps it was his wishful thinking.

Nuns could leave their life. He remembered an elderly lady in the neighbourhood where he had grown up. She had been the subject of some gossip. Apparently she had been a nun, met a man and left her order, only to be left to herself. He shivered. This was not a destiny he wished to anyone. And especially not to Sister Bernadette. If she ever decided to leave her order, he would be there for her, the thought. He would marry her…

Dr. Turner took a deep breath and placed his extinct cigarette stub into his ashtray. He then retrieved his pen. He had work to do, and he needed to stop all these thoughts about a woman he would never be able to have.

What's more, he had promised Timothy to meet him later this afternoon in order to practice for the three-legged race they were to take part in during next week's summer fete. He had promised himself that he would not let his son down this time.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7: Epilogue**

"When did you first know that you were in love with me?" Shelagh asked Patrick shyly. It was a cold evening in January. After having spent all day in hospital with Timothy, recovering from polio, they had just finished a quick dinner at Patrick's flat and settled down on the sofa, as they had done almost every evening of the past weeks.

"When did I first know… umm, wait…" Patrick said slowly, trying to recall his many complex feelings over the past year.

The couple had become engaged roughly two months ago, only ten days after Shelagh, then still Sister Bernadette had been discharged from the TB sanatorium and renounced her vows to become Shelagh Mannion again. Even though this was just a short time ago, both Patrick and Shelagh felt as if they had been a couple much longer.

Even though they repeatedly experienced awkward situations or misunderstandings and almost every day noticed how many things there were yet to discover about each other, they felt so drawn to each other that closeness and intimacy between them grew quickly. Since Timothy had fallen ill, they had become even closer, each needing the other for comfort and consolation – and finding all of this in each other's presence.

They still found it difficult to find the right words for many occasions, being perfectly able to understand each other without words as well - but there were moments, like the present one, when one would ask an in-depth question like the one Shelagh had just asked, igniting a conversation about feelings, desires and wishes for their shared life.

"Well,… there were several moments. Thinking of it now, I… I cannot exactly put my finger on it, to be honest. I think I was in love with you long before I realized it", Patrick slowly began.

"I think the Carter birth definitely changed something. The whole situation was so intense and then the cigarette we shared afterwards and the little anecdote about your father's Henley's? I kept thinking a lot about that day afterwards. I could not get over you accepting my offer, that was definitely something", he chuckled.

"Me too", Shelagh said quietly. "In this moment, it just felt right to take your cigarette. But then, I felt so guilty for having enjoyed your company so much. But I was never able to go back to where we were before."

"I know what you mean. Some weeks afterwards, I noticed that I kept watching you, and that I tried to talk to you more than was necessary. Just to hear your voice and to see your beautiful face."

Shelagh blushed. She still was not used to receiving his compliments, although she marvelled in the thought that he loved her as much as she loved him.

"And I began to dream of you…" Patrick continued. "You did?" Shelagh asked timidly. "Yes, many times", Patrick admitted. "Day and night, if you really want to know."

"I dreamt of you, too", Shelagh quietly confessed. It still felt forbidden to talk about the feelings she had harboured for Patrick back when she was a nun and it was only to him she felt she could openly talk about it.

Patrick looked at her, surprised. "You did?" he smiled.

"Yes. And it seemed the more I prayed for guidance, the less I could eliminate you from my dreams and thoughts."

"That day at the parish hall kitchen…" Patrick began… "… I don't know what would have happened if Timothy had not come. I'd probably kissed your hand then already… or worse."

"Worse?" she asked. "What do you mean?"

"Well, believe me, I still feel poorly when I think about what I did the day of the fete. I should never have crossed that boundary."

"But you did. And it may well be what made us realize what could be if we lived by our feelings, even though it still took us some months after that", Shelagh said.

"You may be right", Patrick replied, taking her left hand with both of his, placing a gentle kiss on her palm and pressing her hand to his heart.

Shelagh smiled about his repetition of the fateful gesture, a gesture he would repeat many times for the years and decades to come. In this moment, she felt complete and she knew he did, too.


End file.
